


Research

by vix_spes



Series: Lessons [3]
Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Hannibal Extended Universe, Insecurity, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 11:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17548817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: Tristan has finally taken it upon himself to give Galahad another lesson but, given that this is Galahad and Tristan, it isn't plain sailing.





	Research

To say that Galahad was annoyed when Tristan placed a hand over the top of his cup and prevented one of Vanora’s barmaids from refilling it was an understatement. Completely and utterly pissed off was more like it and he levelled his fiercest glare at Tristan. Of course, Tristan’s only response was to smirk and arch an eyebrow before taking a sip of his own wine, the bastard. Leaning back in his chair, Galahad made to grab the barmaid’s arm only to have his wrist caught in a vice-like grip. Trying not to make a scene and draw attention to them, Galahad leaned in close and hissed under his breath.

“Do you intend to control my wine consumption now, Tristan?”

“Always so quick to jump to conclusions, pup. I had thought to give you another lesson tonight, but I want you sober for it. If, however, you’ve changed your mind…”

“No, I haven’t changed my mind.” Galahad subsided. He was eager for more, for anything that Tristan gave him. “What…”

“Patience, pup.” Tristan smirked again as Galahad squirmed, unnoticeable to anyone but him.

The next hour was torturous for Galahad. Not only did he have to contend with the fact that Tristan’s hand was tormenting him undercover of the table and out of sight of their fellow knights, but increasingly with his own spiralling thoughts. The latter precipitated by the fact that Bors and Lancelot were sufficiently far enough into their cups to start teasing ‘Galahad the Pure’.

Their fellow knights and brothers-in-arms still knew nothing about the new developments in the relationship between Tristan and Galahad which, to the latter’s mind could only be a good thing. Or so he thought at first. He didn’t know what this thing between himself and Tristan was. But then he started to think more. Did it even count for anything? Did Galahad mean anything more to Tristan than just another brother-in-arms, a fellow Sarmatian?  Was he simply a toy for the older knight to play with or was he more than that? Surely, if Galahad was more to Tristan than a toy, Tristan would have said something to their fellow knights. Would have done something to imply that Galahad was taken and off-limits.

After all, hadn’t Tristan said on that scouting trip where Galahad had taken the initiative on that there were others in the garrison who had been watching Galahad with interest. Had Tristan acted merely because he wanted to be the first to have ‘Galahad the Pure’ while he was still thus? As the thoughts swirled in his head, Tristan’s hand teasing Galahad’s thigh stopped being a pleasurable torment and instead only succeeded in exacerbating Galahad’s hurt and anger.

With the turn that his thoughts had taken, the last thing that Galahad now felt like was another lesson from Tristan.

Standing abruptly, dislodging Tristan’s hand from his thigh in the process, Galahad mumbled an excuse about a headache and left the table. He mustered a weak smile for Vanora as he passed her but knew from the way that her eyes narrowed and slanted in Tristan’s direction that she wasn’t fooled. Still, he was grateful when she let him go without further comment. As he made his way through the garrison, Galahad continued to mentally lambast himself for his foolishness. He hadn’t realised it until now, but he had grown attached to Tristan as more than just a brother knight and all it had taken was a bit of fondling and him on his knees with Tristan’s cock down his throat. He was just turning to close his door when it met the immovable force that was Tristan’s foot.

“You were so distracted you didn’t notice me following you. What if I’d been a Woad or someone else?”

“Then I’d be dead or something because the sentries can't do their job for shit. Tristan, did you want something? I have a headache and I want my bed.”

“You’re lying.”

Tristan’s eyes seemed to penetrate straight through Galahad and he closed his eyes lest Tristan see beyond the truth and parse the underlying reason for the headache, resting his head against the door. “I’m really not. _Please,_ Tristan.”

“Hmm.” Tristan didn’t look convinced but acquiesced quicker than Galahad had expected. “Sleep well, pup.”

Well was far from how Galahad slept. Now that he had the thought in his head, that he could just be a toy for Tristan, he couldn’t get it out of his head. He tossed and turned for hours, mentally replaying every encounter, every “lesson” that he had had with Tristan until he finally fell into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. It felt as though he’d only been asleep for a couple of hours when the sound of banging penetrated his dreams. He had just about managed to pry his eyes open when his door was flung wide and something landed on his stomach. His sleep-crusted eyes managed to focus on the blurry form of Tristan as he barked out his words.

“Get your things together, we’re going scouting.”

Scouting. Great.

Even thought it was the last thing that he wanted to do, Galahad resisted the urge to just collapse back into bed. He knew that Tristan would have no compunction about physically dragging him from bed if he didn’t turn up. Forcing himself out of bed took far more of Galahad’s energy than it should but he’d be damned if he ran away from this like a scared child. He deserved more than that. He _needed_ more than that. Galahad couldn’t keep doing this with Tristan, these _lessons_ couldn’t continue without Galahad knowing the truth of the matter. Not without knowing what he was to Tristan. He wasn’t a toy, he was more than that, whether Tristan realised it or not. One thing was for sure, by the end of this scouting trip, Galahad was going to have some answers.

He wasn’t entirely surprised that, when he made it out to the courtyard, there was no sign of any of the other knights, just Tristan waiting in the pre-dawn light with both of their horses saddled and loaded with their gear, Isolde present on his arm as always. They didn’t speak as Galahad mounted his horse and followed Tristan through the garrison and out of the main gates before turning and heading in the opposite direction to that which Galahad had expected. This was no scouting mission; it couldn’t be. They were literally headed in the opposite direction to that which the Woads were. There was nothing in this direction but woods, empty fields and a lake. Admittedly, the Woads location changed almost daily, but there had been no sign of Woads here for several weeks at least and, as the primary scout, Tristan would have known that. This meant that Tristan had either lied to Arthur about their whereabouts or their goals. The other option – that Tristan had told Arthur what was going on with them – was so outlandish that Galahad refused to even entertain the possibility. They were silent for several miles before Galahad finally lost his patience.

“Where are we going? Is this even a scouting mission or are you just stringing me along again?”

“Again?”

“What do you want with me, Tristan? What’s all this about?”

“Define ‘this’, pup.”

“This … us. These ‘lessons’ as you keep on calling them. Why are you doing it? Why are you doing it with me? Is it because it’s easy, because _I’m_ easy and convenient? A toy for you to amuse yourself with. Because, if it is, it needs to stop now.”

There was a considerable pause before Tristan spoke.

“Do you think so little of me, Galahad?”

The use of his first name, as well as the almost defeated tone of Tristan’s voice, had Galahad open-mouthed in shock. He couldn’t remember the last time that Tristan had called him by his name rather than that damned ‘pup’ moniker, no matter how secretly fond of it he was. When he dared to look up and meet Tristan’s gaze, it was that same intense look that did things to Galahad.

“Well? Do you truly think so little of me?”

“I, umm, well…” Galahad backed up as Tristan stalked towards him in a predatory manner, until Galahad ended up with his back pressed flush along against a tree. Somehow, though, he didn’t think that this was going to end up with him rutting against Tristan’s thigh until he came.

“You are neither easy nor convenient, Galahad. I didn’t start this because I wanted an easy fuck. You are most definitely not a toy. You are worth considerably more than that to me. I am aware that I am not the most verbose of men, neither am I particularly eloquent when I do speak. However, I always speak the truth. The truth is that I when you started garnering the attention of others around the base, I couldn’t bear the thought of others looking at you, let alone touching you.

I’m a jealous man, Galahad. A possessive man and I have thought of you as mine since I was given you to train. My starting to give you these ‘lessons’ as I have termed them is me simply running out of patience to wait for you. If I had my way, I would never let you go. You would be mine and only mine. If any other person touched you, I would remove their fingers slowly with my knife. The only reason that I haven’t shouted it aloud in Vanora’s is knowing that I am your first; I do not want you to feel beholden to staying with me if there is someone else you would prefer. It is easier for me to remain aloof.”

Galahad didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So much confusion and despair that could have easily been avoided. “Tristan, did no-one ever tell you that things would be easier if you would just bloody talk?”

Galahad felt a knot of tension in him loosen at Tristan’s words. Tristan wanted him. Had always wanted him. It was just that Tristan was verbally and emotionally constipated that meant he was unable to actually communicate this to Galahad.

“All the time. I just ignore them.”

Galahad chuckled at that, looking down as he laughed only for it to turn slightly hysterical, a few tears leaking from the corner of his eyes while he struggled for breath. When he had composed himself and looked back up, it was to see that Tristan was prowling towards him, that same intense look on his face that Galahad had struggled to interpret when he had first noticed the older knight observing him.

“Tristan, wha… what are you doing?”

“Now that the serious conversation is out of the way, I think some research is in order, don’t you?”

The wicked smirk on Tristan’s face had Galahad more than a little wary; you never quite knew what could happen with Tristan. “What kind of research are you talking about?”

“I thought for your third lesson we’d see just what a good boy you can be.” Tristan’s smirk widened at Galahad’s involuntary moan at being praised, “see how much you can take while I hold you down and make you mindless with pleasure.”

Tristan’s words had Galahad tripping over his own feet like a fumbling teenager as he scrambled away from the tree, his cock tenting his skirt visibly. He could feel his cheeks burning as Tristan’s gaze ran over him, eyes lingering over Galahad’s crotch.

“It would seem that you’re not averse to the idea.”

“Tristan, it’s sex. When have I ever been averse?”

“True. So,” Tristan started to move towards Galahad once more, the leer on his face sending Galahad's pulse racing, “are you ready for your third lesson to begin?”

Galahad stumbled over a tree root and ended up sprawled over the ground, unable to do anything as Tristan straddled his thighs and flipped up his skirt, ripping away his undergarments and flinging them over his shoulder.

“Here? But, what if someone sees?”

“This area’s deserted but, if someone does happen to stumble across us then they'll get quite the show.”

Galahad was a bit confused when Tristan didn’t even make a token attempt at getting undressed.“Are you not going to undress?”

“I don't need to for what I plan to do. This is all about you.” The words had barely left Tristan’s lips before he was manhandling Galahad, spreading his legs before throwing them over his shoulders and dipping his head.

Galahad only realised his intentions seconds before.

“Tristan, wh-what are you doing? You can't … it's not sanitary.”

The wolfish grin on Tristan’s face made the muscles in Galahad’s thighs clench, heels digging into Tristan’s broad back.

“Try it before you complain too much, pup. I'm certain you'll change your mind.”

As always, the bastard was right.

At the first touch of Tristan’s tongue, Galahad wanted to squirm in a mixture of arousal and mortification. How could something so dirty feel so good? He gasped and moaned as he felt Tristan’s nose nudge at his balls, mouthing around the base of his cock before his tongue laved the sensitive strip of skin between Galahad’s balls and hole. Galahad’s squeal - it could only be described as a squeal - surprised several nearby birds as Tristan laved at his hole only for it to turn into a howl as Tristan’s tongue pressed inside him. As Tristan’s tongue furled and delved within him, Galahad’s hands tangled themselves in Tristan’s hair, tugging on the braids. All that got him was Tristan pulling back, taking Galahad’s hands in his and planting them either side of Galahad’s hips.

“Keep your hands there. If they move, this stops.”

Galahad did as he was told, a quiet whimper escaping him as he was rewarded with a “good boy” and Tristan’s mouth back on and in him until he felt like he was dripping.

And then Tristan upped the ante.

As well as his tongue, he slid two fingers into Galahad’s arse. Galahad had experimented with this before, but it had never felt like this. Tristan’s fingers were thicker and could reach deeper. And then they seemed to reach somewhere inside that Galahad had never managed to find. That he had never known existed. Fingers calloused after years of training with both bow and sword brushed over a spot that had all of Galahad’s nerve endings feeling like they were dancing. Tristan had better be bloody right that there were no Woads in the area because the ear-splitting shrieks escaping from Galahad’s throat would inform them of their exact location.

Galahad’s hands clawed at the ground as Tristan’s fingers and tongue tormented him, spiralling his pleasure ever higher. He dug his heels into Tristan’s back, a litany of begs and pleas for more falling from his lips. More than anything, he wanted to stroke his cock where it strained against belly leaking pre-come but, knowing Tristan, if he did that then he wouldn’t come at all. Just as he was on the verge of feeling _too much_ , Tristan crooked his fingers and pressed the pads of his fingers insistently against that magic spot inside him and that was it. Galahad gave the loudest shout yet as he came with a scream; back arching, heels drumming against Tristan’s shoulders and clenching around Tristan’s fingers as he found release with his cock untouched.

As Tristan let go of his legs, Galahad let them just fall to the floor, unable to keep them there. His muscles felt like liquid, thighs burning deliciously from the friction of Tristan’s beard and his belly and upturned skirt covered in come. His chest was heaving but he forced himself to slow his breathing enough to speak.

“How - how many lessons left?”

Tristan’s dark chuckle - not to mention the way that his beard glistened slightly with streaks of Galahad’s come and his own saliva - made Galahad’s stomach swoop, his quiescent cock giving a valiant twitch of interest. “Just the one. Think you can handle it? You haven't had enough lessons?”

“No, I can take it.” Galahad doesn’t realise the double meaning of his words until he hears the lecherous tone in Tristan’s voice and then he wants to curse.

“I'm sure you can. And it'll be my pleasure to give it to you.”

The promise in Tristan’s voice has Galahad’s cock doing more than just twitch in interest and he finds his hands scrabbling at Tristan’s trousers, needing more. Tristan’s final lesson may well be the death of him but death by sex was hardly going to be worse than death at the hands of the Woads.

Was it?


End file.
